Beware the Ides of March

Oh, the terrible, terrible Ides!

This is the day when all good little Shakespeare students can look over their shoulders and make sure they're not about to get gang-stabbed by a bunch of power-hungry toga-clad senators.

Julius Caesar. "Beware the Ides of March", so said the soothsayer, to which JC was all, "Pshaw. Right. I'm king, baby. I got no worries. Damn." Not too much later, than the big guy got stabbed up in his junk a whole bunch of times; ending off with Brutus, his trusted friend, doing him in.

Et tu, Brute'? Caesar asked, before collapsing in a bloody toga-y mess. Got to hand it to Willy Shakes to write a play where the title character dies and the play keeps going. He doesn't even pull an Obi-Wan until much, much later on, and even then it's a brief cameo.

Of course, I just wonder about JC's final meal: Did he finish off a Caesar Salad before he, himself was finished? And did he wash it down with a nice, refreshing frozen Orange Julius? We may never know the answer to these and other haunting questions.

Rock on. And watch yourself. Beware the Ides of March.